Chapter 99: The Fallen Messiah's Verdict (Part III)
The air over the Durmount Kingdom tasted of ash and ozone.
Leornars stood at the precipice of the castle balcony, his coat fluttering in the violent updraft. Below him, the scenery was a masterpiece of devastation. The once-proud nation lay fractured; nobles scrambled through the rising floodwaters like drowning rats, and the "invincible" knights were nothing more than discarded armor littering the mud.
"Is it truly wise to let her live?" Althelia's voice cut through the sound of collapsing masonry. "Natalie Sulina… or should I say, 'Selrose.' Leaving a survivor is the same as planting a seed for a future grudge."
Leornars didn't turn. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon where the sun bled a deep, bruised purple. "Yes and no. Natalie is a wild card—a variable whose value hasn't been determined in this game of thrones. But look at her now. She'll fixate on the ruins of Durmount. To the world, she's a ferocious beast, but inside? She's a grieving soul, hollowed out by loss. Honestly, I don't see a threat in a woman who has already lost her heart."
With a faint shimmer of mana, the space around them warped. In the blink of an eye, the smell of smoke was replaced by the crisp, biting wind of the high cliffs.
"You realize, of course, that burning a church is the same as declaring war on the Holy Kingdom of Rurva," a calm, melodic voice drifted from behind them.
Stacian was already there, leaning against a jagged rock as if she had been waiting for years. Her expression was unreadable.
Leornars scoffed, a dark smirk tugging at his lips. "They're the ones who sent Luke to play executioner. If they want to hide behind their 'Holy' banners while sending assassins, then so be it. If it's a war they want, I'll give them a war that would make their Gods weep."
Two weeks passed. In the skeleton of Durmount, Natalie Sulina moved like a ghost, laboring to stack stone upon stone. News of the kingdom's fall rippled through the continent like a seismic wave.
In the neighboring kingdom, Queen Selalyndra let out a sharp, jagged laugh. She stood by a stained-glass window, her eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. Nearby, her sister sat slumped, clutching a ceramic doll with trembling fingers—a hollow shell of a woman.
Selalyndra swept past her, her silk gown hissing against the floor. She entered her private study and slammed a stack of maps onto the mahogany desk. "Redraw the borders," she commanded the air. "The moment Durmount breathes its last, we annex the northern territories."
"Mother?" A soft voice came from the doorway. Her daughter stood there, looking uncertain. "What is our next move? The people are talking about the 'white plague.."
"What I do is none of your concern, child," Selalyndra snapped without looking up. "The Queen's burdens belong to the Queen. Go back to your embroidery."
As the princess retreated, the Queen's composure fractured. She smashed a priceless porcelain vase against the wall, the shards spraying like shrapnel.
I see it now, she thought, her breath hitching. Leornars isn't just a conqueror. He's an architect. He's tearing down the old world to seat his own hand-picked puppets. Natalie, Louis... if I don't play this perfectly, he'll replace me next. Or worse... he'll put my pathetic sister back on my throne after everything I've sacrificed!"
Meanwhile, in the damp, claustrophobic darkness of the underground shafts leading to Rurva, Kyle kept his hand white-knuckled on the hilt of his blade. The stench was unbearable.
"What do you really want from me, old man?" Kyle growled.
Father Ezekiel, the priest leading the way, chuckled softly, his footsteps echoing in the muck. "Think of it as a mutually beneficial arrangement, boy. You help me navigate the shadows, and I ensure you get what you're looking for."
"Vague as always," Kyle muttered.
They took a sharp turn, climbing a rusted iron ladder that led to the surface. As they emerged into the moonlight, the metallic clank of armor greeted them. They were surrounded. A dozen Holy Knights stood with leveled spears, their white capes glowing in the dark.
Kyle's instinct took over. His hand dropped to his sword. I can take four of them before they—
"Don't," Ezekiel whispered, his tone suddenly cold. "Do as I say, and we both might walk away from this."
"Aren't these your people?" Kyle hissed, confused.
"Them? No. They are merely tools." Ezekiel stepped forward, his face twisting into a mask of pathetic terror. "Help! Save me!"
The knights lunged forward, dragging Ezekiel up. Kyle was grabbed by four men at once, his arms pinned.
"Father Ezekiel!" the lead knight shouted. "Are you alright?"
"It's him!" Ezekiel cried out, pointing a trembling finger at Kyle. "This savage... he kidnapped me! He forced me to lead him into the city!"
"What the fu—"
WHACK.
A heavy wooden club collided with the back of Kyle's skull. The world tilted, turned black, and he collapsed into the filth.
One month later. The countdown to the Skyvault Citadel meeting had reached its final three days.
Leornars walked into Salene's laboratory. The room was a chaotic mess of bubbling beakers, preserved specimens, and the sharp tang of chemicals. Salene was hunched over a desk, her eyes bloodshot but manic.
"Lord," she started to bow, her voice raspy about to bow.
"Don't bother," Leornars said, waving her off. "I need a favor."
He placed a plain, porcelain-white mask on the table. It looked innocent enough, but the air around it seemed to grow heavy.
"I need you to enchant this," Leornars said. "It needs to act as a seal for my Void Reaper form. I'd rather not accidentally erase a few city blocks because some fool decides to test my patience at the meeting."
Salene picked up the mask, licking her lips. "Suppression of Origin Magic... a tall order. But I know your 'nature' better than anyone. I can do it." She leaned in, her eyes sparkling with a sadistic glint. "But... if anyone happens to 'expire' during your trip... can I have their organs? The Holy Kingdom's knights are so well-fed, their livers are top-quality."
"Do what you want with the corpses," Leornars replied, his body dissolving into shadows. "Just don't get caught."
In the High Council of Rurva, the atmosphere was explosive.
"NOW WE HAVE THE PRETEXT FOR A CRUSADE!" Father Ezekiel bellowed, slamming his fist onto the round table.
"It was self-defense!" a younger clergyman countered, his face pale. "Durmount invaded Avangard! They had every right to retaliate!"
"Self-defense?!" Ezekiel's eyes bulged. "They burned a sanctified Church to the ground! They spat in the face of the Heavens!"
The room fell into a deathly silence. The malice behind their eyes shifted from irritation to a cold, burning zeal. "He burned... a Church?"
Back in his throne room, Leornars sat in quiet contemplation. His crimson eyes glowed like dying embers, and the lopsided crown on his head caught the dim light. He pulled a hairpin from his head, letting his long silver hair cascade over his shoulders.
"Stacian," he called out. "Do you have the layout for the Skyvault?"
"I've memorized it. I can draw it for you now," she said, stepping into the light. She looked oddly delicate today, wearing a white sundress with a cyan bow that matched her eyes.
Leornars stood up, adjusting his casual attire—black cargo pants and a white shirt, accented by a red spider lily necklace.
"Yo, Boss! How's it hanging?"
Kurumi Yamauchi came sprinting toward them, her energy a jarring contrast to the heavy atmosphere. She tripped over her own feet, tumbling toward the floor. Leornars caught her by the collar before she hit the ground.
"You're remarkably cheerful for someone heading into a political warzone," Leornars remarked.
"Hehe, sorry! I'm just pumped. I heard a rumor that there's another Otherworlder in Rurva! Someone from Japan, just like me!" Her eyes were shining. "I hope they're nice. It's been so long since I could talk about home."
Leornars paused. "Another one?"
"Yeah! A real-life Japanese person! I'll tell you all about Japan when we get back—oh! And I finished that 'shampoo' formula I was telling you about. Your hair is going to be so soft!" She giggled and went rushing off again.
Leornars watched her go, a rare, soft expression crossing his face. "Shampoo, huh? At least someone is having fun."
He turned his gaze toward the courtyard, where he saw Sahara and Sasha boarding a carriage marked with the crest of the Dirrium Kingdom. His brows knit together in genuine confusion.
"What the hell?"
The gears of the world were turning, and as the Skyvault meeting loomed, Leornars realized the "Fallen Messiah" wasn't the only one with a plan.